


Come Find Me

by umakoo



Series: If you're searching for forever [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Amnesia, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Set in 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 00:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: Otabek swallowed, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to speak.“You… Who? Who are… you?”The question was fumbling and the words came out in Kazakh, but Yuri was fluent enough to understand. He felt like he was floating out of his body as they stared at each other, the look in Otabek’s brown eyes startled.Yuri withdrew his hand and slumped into his chair. “You don’t remember me.”Yuri's world turns upside down when a bad fall leaves Otabek struggling with amnesia, and the life they have together is wiped away from his memories.





	Come Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> There is no medical accuracy and I've taken some creative freedoms to allow me to tell the story I want to tell. I'm also not very familiar with the technical side of figure skating, so I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> The title comes from Sigma's song [Find Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ec92Wa8zJs8).
> 
> Big thanks to Alyssa, Selene and Bucky for the beta! I hope everyone enjoys the fic! Comments are very much appreciated :)

Yuri shifted under the heavy blankets, groaning at the incessant buzzing somewhere to his left. He fumbled for the nightstand and managed to knock over his half empty water bottle before the tips of his fingers finally made contact with his phone.

 

It was pitch dark inside the room, the thick blackout curtains closed tightly to block out even the barest hint of sunlight. He’d had a gruelling week of traveling, performing and tolerating the press and his over-enthusiastic fan base, not to mention Viktor and his Piggy. He needed at least twelve straight hours of sleep before he’d be ready to face the disaster that was his life once more.

 

Yuri spat out a curse as he fumbled with his phone, his fingers stiff and clumsy with sleep. Everyone who knew him and valued their life also knew not to disturb him in the mornings, so whoever was dumb enough to call him at the ass-crack of dawn must’ve had a death wish.

 

Yuri’s eyes landed on the bright red digits on the alarm clock.

 

**02:09 AM**

 

The anger faded as a cold rush of fear took over.

 

“What the fuck…”

 

Nighttime phone calls were never a good thing, and Yuri’s breath caught in his throat as a rising sense of dread began to reach his sleep-addled brain.

 

His mind rushed back to Grandpa’s health scare two years ago. Was it happening again?

 

“Dedushka… Please, no.”

 

Yuri squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to turn them on the caller ID, but the phone kept buzzing in his hand and he finally swiped his thumb across the screen without looking.

 

The call connected and there was silence on the other end until Yuri’s shaky exhale finally let the caller know he had answered.

 

“Yuri? Hello? Are you there?”

 

Yuri blinked at the familiar voice, so unexpected that he had to look at the screen to make sure he was actually talking to Otabek’s brother.

 

“Askar?” Yuri cleared his throat and rubbed at his eye, frowning as he took another look at the alarm clock. Why was Beka’s brother calling him in the middle of the night?

 

“I’m sorry if I woke you, I’m not sure what time it is in Ottawa. Otabek’s coach told me you’re there for a competition.”

 

Askar sounded flustered and there was a lot of background noise, like he was somewhere crowded. Yuri’s chest constricted as his brain began to connect the dots, the fear crashing back like a tidal wave as he realized this wasn’t about Grandpa.

 

He gripped his phone so hard that the old plastic case threatened to crack between his fingers.

 

“Is Beka alright?! Has something happened?”

 

“Calm down, Yura,” Askar said, but Yuri could hear the nervous strain in his voice. He fell silent and Yuri heard a female voice in the background, announcing something in Kazakh. He balled the sheets in his hand as he waited for Askar to continue. “Otabek had a bad fall during his morning practice,” Askar finally said.

 

“He fell? Is he ok?”

 

“His coach called me about an hour ago, told me they took him to a hospital, but I don’t have a lot of details yet. It seems he hit his head pretty bad, and there might be some broken bones. They… they say it’s serious.”

 

Yuri swallowed against a sudden onslaught of nausea as he listened to Askar talk, most of it drowning under the sound of Yuri’s own heartbeats.

 

“Mama and Papa can’t get away from work until tomorrow, but I’m flying to Saint Petersburg in an hour.” Askar sounded distracted and Yuri heard the hurried clack of shoes against granite floors. “I’m sorry, Yuri, but I have to go through security now, I’ll let you know more as soon as I get there.”

 

“Askar! Wait-" The call disconnected and Yuri stared at the screen until it finally faded into black.

 

The darkness around him felt oppressive, the air in the room heavy and hard to draw into his lungs. He woke his phone and stumbled out of bed, pointing the beam of light at the bathroom door as he rushed towards it.

 

He slammed his palm against the light switch and sank to his knees in front of the toilet, managing to push the porcelain lid up just as last night’s dinner made its way up from his stomach. He spat and heaved into the toilet bowl until the gagging finally subsided, the ringing in his ears fading into a dull buzz.

 

The fluorescent light above the mirror stung his eyes and he hurried back into bed as soon as he had rinsed his mouth, turning on the reading lamp as he stared at his phone. Beka’s ice time on Saturdays started at 8.30 and Yuri saw he had the usual morning texts waiting in their chat window.

 

 

**Sat, Oct 29, 7:17 AM**

**Beka: Good morning, Yura, and congrats on the bronze! I hope you didn’t give JJ too much shit.**

 

**Sat, Oct 29, 8:21 AM**

**Beka: I’ve just arrived at the rink. I’m gonna go over my SP with Coach, see if I can improve on my second half quads.**

 

**Sat, Oct 29, 8:23 AM**

**Beka: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow! Call me when you wake up.**

 

 

Yuri stared at the chat bubbles, the letters growing blurry. He blinked and felt a hot trickle of tears on his cheeks as something inside him began to unravel. He brought up Beka’s contact tab and hit the green button to call him, the tears flowing more freely when Otabek’s familiar voice told Yuri to leave a voice mail in an automated message.

 

Askar had said something about head injury and broken bones and he’d been worried enough to book the first available flight to Russia. What if it was so serious that Beka wouldn’t make it? What if he fucking went and died in some shitty hospital while Yuri was half a world way, unable to do anything or be by his side?

 

“No fucking way!”

 

Yuri jumped up from the bed and reached into his suitcase where it lay open between the bed and the AC unit. He tossed aside the costume he’d worn for his performance yesterday and pulled on a pair of sweats and the first clean shirt he saw, pocketing his phone and keycard. He pushed his bare feet into his sneakers and headed into the quiet hallway.

 

Viktor and Katsuki were eight floors above him and Yuri paced around the small lobby as he waited for the elevator to arrive. He slipped in through the crack in the doors as soon as they began to open and hit the combination of buttons to get to the right floor.

 

“Open up!” Yuri yelled as he banged his fist against what he hoped was Viktor and Katsuki’s room.

 

It took a while, but the door finally opened and Yuri was greeted by Viktor’s annoyed frown, his satin sleep mask askew on his face.

 

“Took you long enough,” Yuri huffed as he pushed Viktor aside and forced his way into the room.

 

Katsuki was sitting up in their bed, his eyes bleary as he fumbled for his glasses.

 

“Yura, what on earth are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night! You should be in bed.” Viktor ran his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair and let out a startled yelp when Yuri grabbed him by his shoulders.

 

“We have to go home, right now, please!” Yuri turned to yank on Katsuki’s blanket. “Get up! We have to fly back right now-“

 

“Yura, calm down!” Viktor took hold of Yuri’s arm, spinning him around until they were face to face. He frowned at the frantic look in Yuri’s eyes. “Has something happened? Is Grandpa alright?”

 

Yuri nodded, swallowing against the constricting grip of panic in his throat. “It’s Beka. He’s in the hospital. He fell and hit his head and I think it’s serious.” Yuri hiccupped and turned to yank on Katsuki’s blanket again. “We have to go, I have to be with him.”

 

“Shh, it’s alright, just breathe, Yura.” Viktor ran his hands up and down Yuri’s arms and pulled him closer.

 

Yuri didn’t resist, burying his face against Viktor’s warm and solid chest. He felt another gentle touch on his shoulder as Katsuki walked past them and went to open their closets.

 

“It's going to be ok, Viktor can take care of our flights while I start packing,” he said softly.

 

Yuri stared at him, because how could Katsuki of all people be so calm? Viktor seated him on their unmade bed, and he stared at an old stain in the carpet, his brain draining of all thought as the adrenaline in his body began to ebb away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor had to pull some serious strings, but he’d managed to get them all on a 7 AM flight back to Saint Petersburg. They were flying coach, but Yuri didn’t give a shit about the lack of legroom and screaming kids. He would’ve traveled in the luggage hold if it meant getting home to Beka.

 

The long flight was on the final stretch and the flight attendants had begun to prepare the passengers for landing, walking down the aisles and checking everyone’s seat belts.

 

Yuri sat in the window seat next to Viktor, tapping a nervous rhythm with his foot as he stared out, the sky above Pulkovo like a bruise. He glanced up when he felt Viktor settle his hand on his knee.

 

“It’s ok, we’re almost there. Just a little while longer.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Do you want us to come with you? To the hospital, I mean,” Katsuki asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

 

Yuri shook his head. “It’s alright.”

 

“Yura, are you sure?” Viktor asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice.

 

“I… I want to go alone. Besides, Otabek’s brother should be there.”

 

“Alright then,” Viktor nodded, patting Yuri’s knee. “But you’ll call us if you need us.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri rushed through security and baggage claim, waving his hand at Viktor and Katsuki as they promised to take care of his suitcase. He turned his phone on and rushed into the first available taxi at the front doors, his heart leaping to his throat when he saw he had several texts from Askar.

 

The first message didn’t contain anything but the name of the hospital Otabek had been admitted to, and Yuri leaned forward to let the driver know his destination.

 

Askar’s messages were brief, and Yuri was sure they had never texted each other in all the years he’d known Beka. Askar was almost ten years older than Otabek and he had a job and a family in Astana, which meant he was rarely in Almaty when Yuri and Beka visited Otabek’s parents during off-season.

 

Yuri sank his teeth into his knuckles as he read Askar’s texts, refusing to cry in front of the taxi driver.

 

 

**Sat, Oct 29, 01:17 PM**

**Altin: Beka has three bruised ribs and a fractured wrist. The head injury is serious.**

 

**Sat, Oct 29, 01:45 PM**

**Altin: His condition is stable and he woke up briefly, but they’re keeping him heavily sedated.**

 

**Sat, Oct 29, 01:47 PM**

**Altin: Please call me when you arrive. I want to talk to you before you see him. I’ll be waiting at the hospital.**

 

 

It felt like there was something Askar wasn’t saying, but Yuri tapped out a quick response.

 

 

**Sun, Oct 30, 08:16 AM**

**You: on my way.**

 

* * *

 

 

Otabek’s family could afford to get him the best care, and Yuri was glad they’d taken him to a private clinic instead of a state owned nightmare like the one where Grandpa had recovered from the blood clot two years ago.

 

He called Askar from the lobby and took the elevator up to the fifth floor, counting down the doors until he saw Askar waiting for him in the hallway, pacing a small circle in front of an empty gurney.

 

“Yuri! I’m glad you’re finally here.” Askar rushed to hug him, and Yuri returned the gesture.

 

He pulled away from the hug when his eyes landed on Otabek, head wrapped in bandages, asleep in a bed surrounded by monitors.

 

Yuri rushed into the room, but Askar took a hold of his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

 

“Yuri, wait, I have to tell you something first.”

 

Yuri snarled, his temper flaring at being kept away from Beka. “What? What is it?”

 

Askar’s gaze dropped down to his lacquered shoes. “Otabek is… The doctors tell me there’s a very good chance that he might have some level of brain damage.”

 

“Brain damage?” Yuri echoed, his voice flat as he stared at Otabek’s unconscious body. “What… What does that mean?”

 

“Memory loss, difficulties to form sentences, maybe something else, I don’t know,” Askar sighed. “The doctors say it’s too early to tell.”

 

Yuri finally yanked his arm free and rushed to Otabek’s bedside, shaking his head as his eyes darted between the monitors and Beka’s slack face. There was some kind of tubing in his nose and a stark white cast on his left arm where it lay over the light blue blanket.

 

“I- I don’t understand. Do you mean he can’t remember who he is?”

 

“No, that’s not it. He was able to say his name when he woke up, and he knew who I was when he saw me, though it took a moment. What he couldn’t remember was the accident or where he’d been before it happened.”

 

“He was at home!” Yuri took Otabek’s hand in his own, cradling his fingers against his palm. He’d never noticed that his hand was slightly bigger than Beka’s. “Are you saying he can’t remember that he lives in Saint Petersburg?”

 

“It’s too early to tell.” Askar joined Yuri at his brother’s bedside and they stared at Beka’s sleeping form in silence, the only sound in the room the beeping of the machines.

 

“Will he remember _me_?” Yuri asked in a small voice.

 

Askar gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I hope so, Yura.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri was exhausted from the long flight, but he insisted on staying by Otabek’s side while Askar left to grab a shower and some sleep at the nearby hotel where he’d booked a room for himself.

 

He got a text from Katsuki that let him know that he and Viktor had taken his luggage home and they’d given Potya and Dasha enough food and water to last until tonight. Yuri shot back a quick update about Otabek’s condition and promised to tell them more at the rink the next day to avoid the worried phone call he knew Viktor was itching to make.

 

He flipped through some of his bookmarks and saw that news of Otabek’s injury had already spread online, and speculation about his condition ran rampant on social media after some asshole had managed to catch video of the accident.

 

The video didn’t show Beka’s fall, but there was shaky footage of Coach Trutnev calling an ambulance and paramedics carrying an unconscious Otabek out of the rink.

 

Articles speculating the future of his career were beginning to pop up in the sports sections of various international news outlets with headlines like _“Olympic bronze medalist suffers potentially career-ending injury”_ and _“Is it all over for Kazakhstan’s Hero?”_

 

“Vultures…” Yuri growled, shoving his phone into his pocket.

 

No one’s career was over!

 

He was so jet lagged that he began to doze off in his chair, his grip on Otabek’s hand slipping, but he was startled awake by a hard tap on his shoulder.

 

“Excuse me, sir, but only family is allowed to visit and stay with the patient,” a stern-faced nurse informed him.

 

“What the hell? I _am_ his family!” Yuri fumed.

 

The nurse arched her brow and gave him a skeptical look, clearly focusing on the fact that Yuri didn’t share any familial resemblance with Otabek.

 

“I fucking live with him and share a mortgage with him and there’s no way I’m leaving his side,” Yuri informed her, crossing his arms over his narrow chest.

 

The nurse opened and closed her mouth a few times, her argument dying on her lips. “I see.” They glared at each other as the woman took Otabek’s temperature before turning on her heels and leaving the room.

 

Yuri exhaled a quiet litany of curses and took hold of Otabek’s hand once more, his grip possessive.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was two in the afternoon when Otabek finally woke up again.

 

Yuri was asleep in his chair, his head lolling against his shoulder, but his eyes flew open when he felt Otabek’s fingers slip away from his hand.

 

“Beka! Thank fuck you’re finally awake,” Yuri sighed, relief washing through him like a warm embrace.

 

Otabek watched him through dark lashes, his gaze a little unfocused. He parted his lips and Yuri waited for him to say something, but Otabek remained silent and continued to stare.

 

They’d had injuries before, even serious ones, but Yuri had never seen Otabek look as fragile as he did under the harsh fluorescent light, his eyes framed by dark shadows, lips chapped and drained of color.

 

Yuri stood up from his chair and cupped Beka’s cheek, tracing the line of his jaw with his thumb.

 

Otabek’s eyes went wide and he flinched under Yuri’s gentle touch, shifting to get away.

 

Oh. Oh no…

 

“Beka?” Yuri whispered, the relief he’d felt only a moment ago replaced by quickly mounting fear.

 

Otabek swallowed, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to speak.

 

“You… Who? Who are… you?”

 

The question was fumbling and the words came out in Kazakh, but Yuri was fluent enough to understand. He felt like he was floating out of his body as they stared at each other, the look in Otabek’s brown eyes startled.

 

Yuri withdrew his hand and slumped into his chair. “You don’t remember me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The cats were waiting for him in their usual spot by the coat rack when Yuri got home just after seven. Askar had ordered him to go and get some rest, promising to call if there was any change in Otabek’s condition.

 

Yuri kicked his shoes off and knelt down to greet Potya and Dasha as the cats meowed and rubbed their flanks against his calves.

 

“I missed you too.”

 

The cats followed Yuri into the kitchen, their frantic purring the only sound in the silent apartment as he took in the familiar surroundings. There was an empty bowl of müsli in the sink and a thoroughly cleaned cup of fat-free yogurt next to Otabek’s reading glasses and his revised short program notes. Yuri saw that he’d been distracted by a half-solved crossword puzzle in one of the cheap gossip magazines Yuri always threw into their cart when Otabek was busy unloading their groceries at the checkout.

 

His eyes landed on the cat calendar they’d hung next to the fridge, and the big red circle around October 31st reminded him that they’d meant to celebrate Otabek’s birthday tomorrow. Yuri had made a reservation at the Serafino weeks ago, but it looked like he’d have to cancel it in the morning, their entire life suddenly on hold.

 

Yuri hadn’t showered since Ottawa and the braid Katsuki had made for him at the airport was beginning to unravel. He dropped his track jacket on the floor and continued to undress as he made his way into their bedroom, adding to the mess of unwashed clothes Otabek had left at the foot of their bed.

 

Neither of them was particularly tidy, but they usually tried to have the place clean whenever one of them came home after a trip abroad. There was a browning banana peel and three empty tea mugs next to Otabek’s mixing equipment, and Yuri could tell he’d probably intended to clean up after his practice.

 

Yuri kicked his boxers down his legs and shut himself in the bathroom, his body almost on autopilot. His mind went numb the moment hot water hit his shoulders and he trembled as the tension he’d carried in his body since Askar’s call finally began to release.

 

He stood under the spray until the old pipes began to wail, a well-known warning sign that the water was about to turn freezing, and he didn't bother to dress as he fell into bed, the sheets sticking to his clammy skin.

 

He wrapped himself in Otabek’s rumpled duvet and pressed his nose into his pillow to breathe in his familiar scent.

 

The way Otabek had looked at him, as if Yuri were a complete stranger, it hurt more than any fall Yuri had taken on the ice over the years. How could they share a life if Beka didn’t even know they were together?

 

Could he really just forget everything they’d been through? Their first kiss at Pyeongchang, the countless late-night Skype calls, Facetiming from ice rinks around the world and calling from crowded airports just to let the other know how much they were missed. They didn’t fight a lot, but even the arguments they’d had over the years were something Yuri wanted to remember.

 

He glanced at his vanity next to Beka’s old double bass (which he refused to sell even though he hadn’t played it since he was fourteen), and thought of all the times he’d nagged about Otabek’s habit of stealing his makeup to cover up a zit or some dark circles for a performance. He’d lost so many good brushes, because Beka was too lazy to buy his own and kept forgetting them in hotel rooms and ice venues around the world.

 

Somehow, thinking about it now only made Yuri feel wistful.

 

As did the way Otabek complained about Yuri shedding his hair all over their apartment and clogging the drain at least once a week. Or how Beka drove Yuri crazy during every off-season when he attempted to grow a beard, managing only a few patchy whiskers that looked gross and itched like crazy when they made out.

 

Yuri lifted his face from the pillow when Dasha slipped in through the crack in the door, followed by Potya. The cats hopped onto the bed and curled their warm bodies against Yuri’s chest, but even their soft purring didn’t lull him to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur and Yuri fell into his usual routine of ice time with Viktor and ballet with Lilia. Otabek’s parents, Radmir and Evina, had arrived to Saint Petersburg shortly after Yuri, but Radmir couldn’t spare more than a few days, and he’d flown back with Askar after the doctors let them know that the worst was over.

 

Evina had stayed behind, helping Otabek to rebuild his vocabulary, and working with the doctors to find out the extent of his memory loss.

 

Yuri could only visit on the weekends when his ice time was shorter, feeling more and more like an intruder than a supportive boyfriend. The doctors were more hopeful than they had been right after the accident, but Beka still didn’t remember anything he and Yuri had been through in the past five years.

 

“When are you going to tell him?” Mila asked, skating circles around Yuri while he waited for Viktor to get off the phone with Katsuki.

 

“Tell him what?” Yuri knew exactly what Mila was talking about, but just thinking about it made his stomach churn.

 

“That you’re his boyfriend! I mean, doesn’t he wonder who you are and what you’re doing by his bedside every Sunday?” Mila stretched her arms above her head and the movement exposed her tacky belly button ring. She’d tried to talk Yuri into getting one, too, back when he was fourteen and impressionable, but Yakov had interfered at the last moment. Thank fuck.

 

“He has to know you two aren’t related, right?”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes at Mila’s observation. “Of course he knows. He’s got amnesia, he’s not blind, Baba.” Yuri shot Viktor an impatient look as he skated past him, but Viktor just waved him off, giving Yuri one more reason to regret the day he’d agreed to be coached by the old man.

 

“ _Yuraaaa_.” Mila continued to tail him and Yuri knew she wouldn’t leave him alone until he gave her an answer.

 

“He thinks we’re just friends.”

 

“You two haven’t been “just friends” pretty much ever,” Mila scoffed. “He was pining for you the moment you reconnected at Barcelona. Everyone could see it!” Her smile became teasing as she reached out to yank at Yuri’s ponytail. “Well, everyone but you.”

 

“Hey!” Yuri swatted her hand away and almost hit the new transfer from Belgorod as she continued to pester him. “I was busy winning gold!”

 

He finally managed to detach himself from Mila’s claws and put some distance between them before she had a chance to lift him up in front of the new kid or do something equally mortifying.

 

“You have to tell him, though, sooner or later, Yuri. He has to know,” she called from the other side of the rink.

 

“I know,” Yuri said under his breath, the thought of even approaching the subject with Otabek sending a stab of anxiety through his gut. He tugged on a loose string where it stuck out of his glove until the fabric around his finger began to unravel. “Fuck.” He yanked the glove from his hand and tossed it at Viktor, whose ear was still glued to his phone. “Viktor! You’re supposed to be coaching _me_ , not the Piggy! He’s retired, remember?”

 

Viktor lowered his phone, his smile pleasant as he ordered Yuri to skate five extra laps around the rink.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was another Sunday and Yuri had arrived at the hospital earlier than usual, because Otabek had some big tests scheduled for the afternoon. He’d barely slept last night, pacing around their apartment as he went through different ways to open a conversation about his relationship status with Otabek.

 

The doctors had told them not to overwhelm him with too much information all at once, but Evina had agreed with Yuri; it was time for Beka to know the truth.

 

He knew his time had finally come when Evina set down her needlework and announced that she was going to the cafeteria.

 

“Do you want me to bring you a sandwich, Yura?”

 

Yuri shook his head. He hadn’t even been able to swallow his morning tea. “I’m good.”

 

The silence that settled into the room in her wake was almost thick enough to slice. Yuri sat in one of the chairs by Otabek’s bedside and pretended to text to someone, his foot drumming a nervous rhythm against the linoleum floor.

 

They hadn’t spent a lot of time without someone else in the room with them, and Yuri felt unsure and out of his element. Which was ridiculous, because Otabek had seen him at his lowest lows, and Yuri knew all of Beka’s little insecurities and secrets that he hid from everyone else.

 

Like how he was afraid of dogs and always hid behind Yuri’s back when Makkachin greeted them at Viktor and Katsuki’s place, or how he acted out goofy dance numbers from old musicals for the cats when he thought Yuri wasn’t around to witness it. He also knew that contrary to popular belief, it was actually Beka who took ages to get ready, always so fussy about his hair that Yuri didn’t even bother dressing until Otabek was out of the bathroom.

 

They’d removed the bandages around Beka's head a while ago and his hair hung over his eyes, limp and unwashed. The piercings from his ears were stored in a box Evina had given to Yuri for safe-keeping, and his lucky pendant hung around Yuri’s own neck, hidden underneath his shirt.

 

Otabek had his gaze fixed on the tv above his bed, but it was turned to a rerun of some old daytime soap, which meant he wasn’t really watching it.

 

Yuri pocketed his phone and cleared his throat. “Uh, Beka? I kinda have something I need to tell you.”

 

Otabek gave him a curious look and reached for the remote to turn the tv on mute, giving Yuri his full attention. “What is it?”

 

Yuri had been through this conversation at least a dozen times in his head during the Uber ride to the hospital, but every line he’d rehearsed seemed to vanish from his head as Otabek arched his dark brows at him expectantly.

 

He crossed and uncrossed his legs, his eyes darting around the room. “You know how I told you that we’re friends?”

 

“Yeah?” Otabek narrowed his eyes, clearly aware of the nervous energy in the room. “You told me we skate at the same rink.”

 

“Well, I, uh, lied. Kind of. I mean, it’s true that we’re rink mates and we’re definitely friends, but I’m also more than that. Like, a lot more.” Yuri swallowed, the sound of his throat clicking somehow mortifyingly loud in his ears. His cheeks prickled and he knew he was probably as red as a bowl of borscht. Fuck.

 

“Yuri?”

 

“I’m your boyfriend, ok?”

 

He glanced up when he heard Otabek shift on the bed, the starched sheets rustling under his weight as he sat up.

 

“I had a feeling there was something. I mean, the way you sometimes look at me, it’s really… intense.” Otabek licked his lips and tapped his fingers against the cast on his injured arm, the tips of his ears a little pink. “I asked Mama about it a few times, but she told me it’s something I have to discuss with you.”

 

“Well, now you know.” Yuri blew out a relieved breath; it felt like some great weight had dislodged from his chest. He took a hold of Beka’s fingers where they poked out from the cast, his mouth curving up in a tentative smile. “I’ve wanted to tell you this whole time, but the doctors said we should take things slow, so I thought it was better to wait. But you’re almost ready to come home, right? You have no idea how lonely it's been without you! I’m even starting to miss your stupid snoring! And the cats miss you too, I can tell because Dasha has slept on your pillow every night and-”

 

Yuri fell quiet when he felt Otabek’s fingers pull away from his hold.

 

“Wait, what? We live together?”

 

“Yeah… We bought a place in the same neighborhood as Viktor and Katsuki a year ago. That’s the whole reason why you moved here.” Yuri leaned back in his chair, taking in the stunned look on Otabek’s face. “It was your idea,” he blurted, a little defensive.

 

Otabek continued to stare at him as he processed all the new information Yuri had unloaded on him. Shit. Had he overdone it?

 

“Beka? Are you ok?”

 

They were interrupted when someone walked into the room, and Yuri groaned when he saw it was his old friend Nurse Stick-in-the-Ass, accompanied by one of the doctors.

 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. The doctor has to go over some things with the patient before the CT scan.”

 

The nurse escorted Yuri out of the room and it took all of his willpower to keep his temper in check when she closed the door in his face.

 

He stalked down the hallway and pulled out his phone, channeling his anger into furious texting.

 

 

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.34 PM**

**You: wyd**

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.38 PM**

**Baba: Kicking some German guy’s ass in Overwatch 2! Are you still at the hospital? How’s Otabek?**

 

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.41 PM**

**You: the same. they’re taking him to that machine that takes a picture of your brain**

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.43 PM**

**You: i finally told him, baba**

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.46 PM**

**Baba: Holy shit! How did he take it???**

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.47 PM**

**You: i don’t know. i think i kinda fucked it up. we were interrupted by nurse ratched before i could finish, but he looked fucking shook when he found out that we live together**

 

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.48 PM**

**Baba: Do you wanna come over later? Georgi is going out with his latest conquest so we can watch Netflix on his account. We can also talk if you like?**

 

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.48 PM**

**You: can’t. i have extra studio time with lilia.**

 

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.49 PM**

**Baba: Yuri, it’s Sunday!!! You work way too hard!**

 

**Sun, Nov 14, 12.49 PM**

**You: that’s why i win. you should try it sometime.**

 

 

Yuri knew the final text was on the harsh side, but it was always harder to keep from lashing out when he was frustrated like this. Mila knew it too, which is why she only sent back a row of eye-rolling emojis and a middle finger.

 

A gentle touch on his shoulder made Yuri look up from his phone and he realized that Evina had joined him.

 

“They’re taking Otabek to the CT scan now, but he’ll be back in half an hour if you want to wait with me?”

 

Yuri shook his head, already pulling on his parka. “I have to get to ballet practice, but tell Beka I said bye.”

 

Evina wrapped her hand around Yuri’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “I know this is hard for you, too, Yura, but give him time,” she said, her round face sympathetic as she cupped his cheek. “You mean the world to him, I’m sure he’ll remember that.”

 

Yuri forced himself to smile, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “I hope so.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It had been three weeks, four days and six hours since the accident when Otabek was finally ready to come home. Yuri dashed around their small flat, busying himself with last minute cleaning to distract himself from the panic that had been building in his guts since last night.

 

The cats yowled at him when he fluffed the sofa cushions for the third time, disturbing their afternoon nap.

 

He hadn’t been this nervous since his senior debut. His stomach was in knots and his palms remained sweaty no matter how many times he wiped them on his jeans.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Plisetsky. It’s just Otabek. Cool your shit.”

 

Yuri heard someone turn a key in the lock on their front door and almost tripped on the edge of a carpet as he dashed into the hallway. Evina waved at him from the door, setting Otabek’s keys on the small table by the coat rack.

 

“Hello, Yura. Here we are,” she smiled, one hand around Beka’s waist and the other sagging under a large duffel bag.

 

Yuri blinked and it took him a few seconds to force his brain in the right gear. “Hey, hey let me get that.” He hurried to help Evina with the bag and set it aside, but his eyes were glued to Otabek, who was _finally_ _home_. Holy shit.

 

“Do you need any help with that?” Evina asked in Kazakh as she pointed at Otabek’s heavy winter coat.

 

“I’m ok, Mama,” Otabek murmured, but his movements were still stiff due to his slowly healing ribs.

 

Evina drew Yuri into the kitchen while Otabek undressed, and Yuri could tell she was worried to fly back home while her son remained thousands of kilometers away.

 

“Are you sure you’ll manage with him? There’s still a long way to go…”

 

Yuri gave her a confident nod, the line of his mouth determined. “We’ll be fine, there’s no need to worry.”

 

“You’ll remember to make sure he takes all his medication?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“He has a therapy session every Tuesday and Friday at 2 PM, and the first checkup with Doctor Lyubov is on the 5th of next month. Here, I’ve written it all down for you.”

 

“I’ll remember,” Yuri nodded, pinning Evina’s neatly written notes on the small bulletin board where they kept all their important competition and travel dates.

 

Evina glanced at Otabek who had finally managed to remove his outer layers and was now admiring the view from the living room window. “You’ll call if something happens?”

 

“I will, Mrs Altin. I promise I’ll take good care of him.”

 

Evina laughed softly and brushed a lock of hair behind Yuri’s ear. “Of course you will, darling. You have my full trust.”

 

Yuri stayed in the kitchen and began to make tea to give Evina some privacy while she and Otabek said their goodbyes. It took almost fifteen minutes, but he eventually heard the front door open and close and he knew he was finally alone with Otabek.

 

His nerves were wound so tight that he actually jumped when Otabek stepped into the kitchen.

 

Beka lingered in the doorway, his eyes darting around and taking in every little detail in the room before they finally landed on Yuri. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Yuri shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and rolled a ball of lint between his fingers. “Uh. Welcome home, I guess.”

 

“Thanks,” Otabek nodded.

 

Everything felt so surreal. Yuri had dreamt of having Beka back home every single day for weeks, and now that the moment had finally arrived, it was nothing like he’d imagined.

 

Every cell in his body screamed at him to smother Otabek with kisses, but he remembered the distance that had grown between them, and he kept his hands in his pocket as they continued to stare at each other in the stretching silence.

 

It was broken by a curious meow and they both looked down when Dasha slinked into the kitchen, circling Otabek before clawing at his jeans. Potya watched them from the hallway, always a little reserved if one of them had been away for a while.

 

“Hello there,” Otabek murmured, and Yuri swore his heart actually skipped a beat, because there was a smile on Beka’s lips, the first one in weeks. “Who are you?”

 

“That’s Dasha,” Yuri grinned, scooping her up from the floor when he realized Otabek was still unable to bend down because of his healing ribs. He set Dasha into Beka’s arms and gave her sleek head a scratch. “You got her for me soon after we moved into this apartment.”

 

“I did?” Otabek’s brows pulled together in a frown as his mind drew another blank.

 

“You wanted to surprise me on my birthday.” Beka was kind of extra when it came to surprises, and Yuri smiled at the memory of opening a neatly wrapped box and finding Dasha inside, a big, frilly bow around her neck.

 

Their fingers brushed as they both scratched behind Dasha’s ear. Otabek drew his hand away and Yuri looked up with startled eyes, the awkward tension resurfacing.

 

Otabek had never been the chatty type, but silences between them had never been this awkward.

 

“This is so fucking weird,” Yuri groaned.

 

“It really is,” Beka agreed, and it felt good to know that they were on the same page about that at least.

 

The kettle began to whistle and Yuri was thankful for the distraction as he hurried to take it off the stove.

 

He reached into the cupboard and took out a jar of honey and their old mascot mugs. Bandabi’s ear had chipped off and Soohorang’s stripes had faded away in the dishwasher, but Yuri refused to throw them out, the mugs and a couple of plushies the only thing he’d brought home from his first Olympics.

 

“I take one spoon, but you like your tea with two,” Yuri said, grinning at him over his shoulder. “You’d probably put in half a jar if I didn’t watch you.”

 

“Good to know,” Otabek nodded, the look on his face a little bewildered as he watched Yuri scoop a second spoon of honey into his mug.

 

And Yuri couldn’t blame him. It had to be weird to have someone who was a total stranger to you inform you of your tea drinking habits.

 

Yuri set the steaming mugs of tea on a tray and took out the tin of cookies Grandpa had sent to him in a giant comfort package soon after Beka’s accident. He gave it to Otabek and invited him to follow him into their small living room where Dasha and Potya already waited for them at their scratching post.

 

The coffee table was usually full of Yuri’s scrunchies and Beka’s dog-eared music notes and cat toys, but Yuri had made sure everything was clean and organized. He glanced around, wondering if it was maybe too clean. The doctors had said that being in familiar surroundings could trigger some of Otabek’s lost memories, and their shared mess was a very important part of their living room aesthetic.

 

“It’s not usually this tidy,” Yuri hurried to say. “I cleaned all morning because I was so nervous and I maybe kinda overdid it.”

 

“You were nervous?” Otabek asked, blunt as ever. He lowered himself stiffly on the couch, and just seeing him seated against the familiar tiger stripe blanket dislodged something in Yuri’s chest.

 

“Well, yeah.” Yuri set the tray on the spotless coffee table and sank his fingers into his hair as the mounting frustration finally reached critical mass. “Shit, Beka, I have no idea how I’m supposed to deal with any of this! I missed you so fucking much. I barely slept the whole time you were in the hospital, and I keep sucking at practice, I know I do, even if Viktor doesn’t say anything, I can still see it in his eyes.”

 

Yuri drew in a stuttering breath, his throat so tight that it felt like someone had an invisible grip on it. “When your brother called me and told me you’d had an accident, I swear I almost saw my own life flash before my eyes. Just the thought of losing you… I- I thought I’d die.”

 

The agony in Yuri’s confession was mirrored in Otabek’s eyes, his lips parted as he struggled to speak. “I’m sorry-- I can’t-- I can’t remember.” He’d slipped into Kazakh, but his speech was fumbling, the words getting stuck somewhere between his brain and mouth. “I’m sorry, Yuri, I’ve tried, but I just can’t remember.”

 

Yuri’s stomach rolled with guilt at seeing Otabek so upset and he hurried to take his hand, squeezing it in apology. “It’s ok, Beka. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things… None of this is your fault, ok? This whole situation just fucking sucks.” He caught the twitch between Otabek’s brows and pressed gentle fingers to his temple. “Do you need something for the pain?”

 

Otabek shook his head, breathing through his nose. “I think I’d like to rest.”

 

“Yeah, okay. That’s fine.” Yuri glanced at their untouched mugs of tea, swallowing back the disappointment as he helped Otabek into their bed.

 

Evina’s notes mentioned that Otabek still slept several hours every day so Yuri wasn’t surprised when Beka spent the rest of the afternoon asleep.

 

He paced around their apartment like a caged animal, feeling like the walls were drawing in on him but afraid to leave Otabek alone. He poked his head into their bedroom every ten minutes to make sure Beka was okay, fighting the urge to just curl up next to him.

 

Everything about the day had been a giant disappointment and Yuri knew he only had himself to blame. He’d known exactly what to expect, but some naive part of him had still believed that everything would go back to normal the moment Otabek stepped in through the front door.

 

Patience sure as hell wasn’t one of Yuri’s virtues, but he knew Beka would need time to adjust, that everything was still a work in progress. The familiar fear of being forgotten for good had begun to invade his thoughts again and Yuri tossed his phone against the sofa pillows in a fit of frustrated anger.

 

“It’s going to be ok. It’s going to be ok. It’s going to be fucking ok.”

 

It was barely eight, but Yuri fed the cats and readied himself for bed, making sure he had Beka’s pain medication on hand in case he woke up and needed some during the night.

 

Otabek was awake when Yuri tiptoed into their bedroom, lying on his back, his eyes fixed on one of the medals on their shared victory wall. He looked like he was lost in his thoughts and didn’t even blink until Yuri was lifting the covers to join him.

 

“Yuri?” Otabek turned to look at him and raised his head from the pillow, visibly flustered.

 

Yuri froze, one knee on the bed, and they watched each other in the orange hue of the street lamp just outside their window.

 

“Um, is this ok?” Yuri asked, biting his lip. “Do you… do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

 

Yuri sure as hell didn’t want to sleep on the damn couch, but the way Beka was staring at him, like Yuri was some half-naked stranger invading his personal space made it pretty clear that they wouldn’t be cuddling any time soon.

 

“I’m sorry but I-” Otabek stuttered, his eyes apologetic.

 

“It’s ok. Don’t worry about it.” Yuri had to bite his cheek to hide the bitter disappointment as he gathered his pillow and duvet in his arms. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

 

He heard Otabek wish him a goodnight as he settled himself on the couch, but he was unable to respond, the lump in his throat robbing him of words.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Otabek’s recovery was a slow process and things were hardly back to normal even when his ribs were healed and the cast around his arm came off. Coach Trutnev had held a small press conference to announce that Otabek would be out for the remainder of the season, and all the major sports publications had stopped reporting about Beka soon after, but fans on social media were still speculating.

 

Wilder theories claimed that Otabek was a complete vegetable while some mean tongues insisted that he was in rehab for a drug problem just because people knew he DJ’d during off-season.

 

 

 **_CosmicAngel_ ** _@CAngel_

_I definitely saw him do coke in the bathroom at Club NYX after his set when I was in Amesterdam last summer._

 

 **_Galina Kolomina_ ** _@DarkHorse4Ever_

 **_@CAngel_ ** _STFU!!!_ _Hes never even played in Amsterdam!_

**_CosmicAngel_ ** _@CAngel_

 **_@DarkHorse4Ever_ ** _Bish I know what I saw._

 

 

Yuri wanted to put an end to the gossip mill, but years in the spotlight had taught him it was better to stay quiet, and he forced himself to log out of all his social media accounts whenever the urge to attack some lying idiot got to be too much.

 

Otabek had an appointment with his therapist twice a week, and Yuri thought he was starting to see small signs of progress. His speech was improving and he no longer repeated things as much as he did in the hospital, but his memories were still fragmented like a broken mirror.

 

They hadn’t talked much about the accident, because Beka had no memory of it, but Yuri had come to the conclusion that Otabek seemed to be missing a lot of his adulthood memories. His social media was full of well-wishes from people they’d been competing against for years now, but Otabek didn’t recognize any of them, not even JJ whose family had hosted him during his stay in Canada. The knowledge didn’t do much to soothe Yuri’s hurt feelings and he almost felt bad for JJ when his attempts to strike a conversation with Otabek went ignored.

 

Otabek still maintained many of his old mannerisms, and sometimes it was the hardest thing to watch him do something mundane like chew on the earpiece on his reading glasses or hum an old Kazakh nursery rhyme to Dasha and Potya, and not rush over and kiss him.

 

They’d fallen into an odd routine where Otabek seemed to treat Yuri more like a roommate than a boyfriend, and it was almost like Yuri was fifteen again and learning what it was like to have a friend in his life. Except that Yuri wasn’t fifteen anymore. He was twenty and pining.

 

He eyed the contents of their fridge, the bottom half depressingly empty, because Lilia had put him on a diet for the GPF after one of the seams on his costume had torn. Yuri insisted it only happened because he’d stretched his arm too high during a jump, and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with the junk he’d stuffed his face with while Beka was in the hospital.

 

There was no need for Otabek to stick to his strict meal plan when he was out for the season, and Yuri couldn’t blame him for wanting to eat like a normal person. His stomach let out a loud rumble when he eyed Beka’s half of the fridge, tempted to steal one of his leftover dumplings.

 

He spun around when he heard a soft chuckle behind his back.

 

“Feel free to take whatever you want, I don’t mind,” Otabek said, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. He’d pushed his reading glasses on his forehead, his hair all messy and sexy, and Yuri definitely wasn’t staring.

 

“Yeah, but Lilia does. The Hag thinks I’m spilling out of my costume.”

 

Otabek wrinkled his nose, his brows climbing up in visible disbelief. “That’s ridiculous. Anyone can see that you’re in great shape.” His eyes lingered on Yuri’s legs, and Yuri felt himself blush, the thick muscles on his inner thighs one of Beka’s favorite places to kiss and mark.

 

Otabek cleared his throat and looked away, taking a bite from his apple. “Anyway, I found out that I follow a couple of film bloggers on Twitter and they had some recommendations. I was thinking we could watch a movie?”

 

Yuri let out a loud bark of laughter. “The last time I let you pick something from those nerds, we ended up watching something that wasn’t only black and white, but also mute, and _you_ were the one who fell asleep first.”

 

Otabek dropped his gaze to his feet. “Oh. Well, I guess I can do something else-”

 

“ _Beka_. Of course I’ll watch a movie with you,” Yuri sighed, rolling his eyes. He stepped forward and stole a bite from Otabek’s apple on his way to the living room. “But it has to be from this century. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Otabek nodded, sounding a little breathless as he hurried after Yuri.

 

They ended up ignoring the recommendations from Beka’s film geeks, and Yuri didn’t protest when Otabek put on one of the Alien movies. At least it wasn’t the shitty one. He stuffed his face with roasted almonds, because fuck Lilia and her diet, while Otabek (in typical Otabek fashion) kept pausing the movie to read him random behind the scenes trivia from the internet.

 

Yuri watched him from the corner of his eye, his smile fond. He didn’t have the heart to tell Beka that he’d given Yuri the same exact lecture only two months ago, the only difference being that Yuri wasn’t currently yelling at him about the constant interruptions.

 

They’d been sitting at the opposite ends of the couch for most of the movie, and Yuri was surprised to feel Otabek scoot closer when shit got real in the final act. He knew Beka didn’t scare easily, which had to mean he was worried about Yuri’s own nerves.

 

Otabek placed his hand on the backrest, the gesture anything but subtle, and Yuri didn’t even bat an eye as he took up Beka’s offer, shifting closer until he felt the warm weight of his palm against his shoulder.

 

Neither of them said a word about it, but Otabek didn’t move his arm until they were halfway through the credits, and if Yuri was still happy about the little gesture at his morning practice, it was definitely in Viktor’s best interest that he didn’t bring up the dumb smile on Yuri’s face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The progress Otabek made was sometimes followed by a small stumble backwards, and there were days when he struggled to remember where they kept the cat food, or which cupboard held the glasses, no matter how many times Yuri had shown him.

 

Otabek only left the house without Yuri when he rode an Uber to the clinic, but they hadn’t set any official rules about Beka’s comings and goings, which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

 

Yuri's hands were full with groceries, the keys in his pocket impossible to reach with his gym bag flung over his shoulder, and he bent down to press his elbow against the door bell, ringing it once, twice, three times.

 

No answer.

 

"Otabek? Can you come and open the door for me?"

 

His voice echoed down the stairwell, the acoustics in the building terrible if you valued privacy. He had maybe thirty seconds before the hag at the end of the hallway came out to complain about his lack of manners and respect for his elders.

 

"Come on, Beka! My arms are gonna fall off!"

 

Yuri dropped the bags on the floor when it became clear that Beka hadn’t heard him.

 

It was Wednesday, which meant that Otabek didn't have therapy, and he'd been napping on the couch when Yuri had left to the rink. What the hell?

 

Yuri ignored the flare of panic in the pit of his stomach and fished out his keys.

 

"Beka? Are you home?"

 

The only answer he got was a lazy meow from the living room. Yuri glanced down and saw that Otabek’s boots were missing from the pile of Yuri’s sneakers, as were his keys and parka.

 

He’d gone out.

 

Yuri rushed into the kitchen, but there was no note from Otabek on the counter where they kept the stack of post-its. He pulled out his phone and hit the call button on Beka's contact tab, spinning around on his heels when he heard a muffled ring tone somewhere in their living room.

 

“Fuck, Beka…”

 

Yuri reached under one of the sofa cushions and pulled out a familiar iphone. Of course the fool had left the house without it.

 

Yuri reminded himself that Otabek had always been independent, leaving Kazakhstan to train abroad at a young age. He could definitely take care of himself.

 

But Saint Petersburg was a big city…

 

Yuri put the groceries away and took a quick shower, ate and did some stretches, but the evening wore on and there was no sign of Otabek. He stood in front of the living room window and stared at the Fontanka, the city lights reflecting off the river’s frozen surface as the sky above the city got gradually darker.

 

Yuri was about to do the unthinkable and call Viktor for help when the front door finally opened.

 

His socks slid on the laminate as he rushed into the hallway. "Otabek! Where the hell were you?"

 

Otabek blinked at him from the door, the look on his face a little bewildered as he pulled off his hat and unwrapped the thick scarf around his neck. "I, uh, got lost."

 

" _You what?_ "

 

"I get so bored sitting in here all day, so I thought I'd visit this place called Fonoteka when I saw an old chat conversation on my phone about the best record stores here, but I, well..."

 

"Got fucking lost." Yuri groaned.

 

"I also left my phone home."

 

"I noticed."

 

Otabek bit his lip, looking a little scolded.

 

"You asshole," Yuri sighed softly.

 

Otabek’s parka was cold against Yuri's cheek and he smelled like cool evening air when Yuri pressed against his chest to hug him. "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

 

Otabek's arms hovered uselessly for a moment before he wrapped them around Yuri's back and returned the hug.

 

"I thought I'd be home before you got back from practice, I didn't mean to worry you, Yura. I’m sorry."

 

Yuri looked up and gave Beka his best pout. "You're definitely doing the dishes for the rest of the week. And cleaning the litterbox. And my gym gear."

 

"Fair enough." Otabek gave him a lopsided smile, but his face grew serious when he caught the slight tremble in Yuri's shoulders. "I won't leave like that again, I promise."

 

Yuri heard the lingering distress in Otabek's voice, and he could guess that wandering the streets of Saint Petersburg as an amnesiac hadn't been a pleasant experience.

 

"Did you at least find the damn record shop?" Yuri asked.

 

"No... But I did spent an hour walking circles around some statue of an old janitor."

 

"You weren't even on the right side of the river," Yuri huffed, rolling his eyes. He grabbed his coat and shoved his feet into his sneakers. "Come on, I'll take you there myself."

 

Otabek's entire face lit up at Yuri's words. "You will?"

 

"You still have to clean the litterbox, though," Yuri said, smirking at him over his shoulder.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Altins were a tight-knit unit, and Beka skyped with Evina and Radmir every Sunday morning like he had before the accident while Yuri did his yoga.

 

“Did you get the package I sent to you? There’s some of that tea both you and Yuri like, and Aunt Natalya made socks for you,” Evina asked as she chopped vegetables in her kitchen in Almaty, the midday sun casting a golden halo around her. “It’s so cold over there this time of the year. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

 

Beka held up his feet, showing off his new socks, which he’d been wearing dutifully ever since he unwrapped them from Evina’s care package.

 

Yuri’s eyes grew fond as he spied on him from the floor, spread out on his yoga mat. How could someone who was so effortlessly cool also be such a giant mama’s boy?

 

Otabek updated his family on his weekly progress and closed the lid on his MacBook once the call disconnected. He picked up the book his therapist had given him and went back to his memory exercises, but Yuri knew he was being watched as he pushed his ass out and rolled up to his feet.

 

“Wanna join me?” Yuri smirked, balancing on one leg while the other one pointed at the ceiling.

 

Otabek blinked, his eyes darting left and right before he managed to hide his face behind his book. “Thanks, but I’m good. I still have another chapter to finish,” he mumbled, making an effort to turn the page.

 

Yuri bit his cheek as he fought not to laugh. “Beka?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“It might be easier to read if your book wasn’t upside down.”

 

Otabek flushed all the way to his scalp and it was the single best thing Yuri had seen all week. They both burst into laughter as Beka turned the book around in his hands and rolled his eyes at himself.

 

“Good point.”

 

It was moments like these that gave Yuri hope, when it almost felt like the accident had never happened and Yuri managed to pull a smile from Beka. But then it came time to say goodnight and Yuri still stayed on the couch, and he could barely breathe through the angry frustration that bubbled in his throat like bile.

 

It was well past midnight and Yuri could hear Potya chase after her toy in the kitchen while Dasha meowed behind their closed bedroom door. He shifted around, but no matter how many different angles and positions he tried, there was always a lump under his lower back.

 

Yuri was going to burn this couch if he ever got to move back to their bedroom.

 

It wasn’t just the couch, though. It was hard to sleep without Beka’s quiet snoring and the weight of his arm around Yuri’s waist, the cats curled up at their feet.

 

He missed watching Otabek wake up, the soft flutter of his lashes and the sleepy smile that always rose to his lips when his gaze finally focused on Yuri. Most of their mornings were rushed, consisting of carefully timed routines with Otabek making their breakfast while Yuri showered, and Yuri packing their bags for the rink while Beka shaved in the bathroom. There was comfort in those routines, and Yuri was constantly running late now that he could no longer rely on Otabek to set the pace of their mornings.

 

His thoughts drifted to all the lazy Sundays when Beka woke him up with a trail of kisses on his shoulders, shooing the cats out of the bedroom while Yuri reached into the nightstand for the lube. They rarely made it out of bed until noon, showing up late for their brunch at Viktor and Katsuki’s, faces glowing and smiles sated.

 

Yuri glanced down at the sudden tug or arousal low in his belly. He hadn’t even thought about sex or how much he missed it, the past weeks so emotionally draining that the loss of intimacy hadn’t really hit him.

 

Until now.

 

Yuri felt himself harden against his thigh, always quick to excite if his thoughts lingered on the combination of Otabek and sex for too long. He rolled his eyes and reached into his boxers to take himself in hand, knowing he wouldn’t sleep for another hour if he didn’t take care of his hard-on.

 

When he was fourteen, Yuri had been convinced there was something wrong with him, because it felt like his dick got hard if he even thought about putting his hand in his pants. There was no lock on his door in the dorms, but that didn’t stop him from wanking until the waste basket next to his desk was so full with used tissues that he had to sneak them into the bathroom and flush them down when everyone else was asleep.

 

It wasn’t until his transition into seniors and his first Olympics that he realized he was hardly the only skater to think about sex. Their dorm and the entire village at Gangneung seemed to be high on hormones, the amount of sex people had between competitions making Yuri’s own wank records pale in comparison.

 

He’d never slept with anyone but Beka, who’d been equally inexperienced, and every mistake and discovery over the years was something they’d done together. It had taken them a while to get past the need to rush whenever they got to see each other, their bodies always too aware of the kilometers between them.

 

Yuri touched himself with quick, efficient strokes, his hand a little too dry with nothing to ease the slide. He didn’t have Beka’s patience or skill to build up the pleasure, but it didn’t matter when he was only after a quick release.

 

Most of the sex they had before Beka’s move to Russia wasn’t physical, but the Snaps and private selfies and Skype calls got the job done as well as Otabek’s physical presence in Yuri’s bed. He still asked Beka to send him dick pics whenever one of them left to compete, and Yuri often got himself off before Otabek even got his pants down.

 

He rolled his palm against the head and gathered some of the slick he’d begun to leak, the slide smoother as he rolled back his foreskin. He hoped the sound of his jerking wasn’t loud enough to reach Otabek’s ears, but his cock pulsed in his grip at the thought of Beka hearing it all.

 

Yuri curled his toes against the duvet, heat pooling in his stomach, and he bit his lip as he came, shooting on his t-shirt.

 

It was short and unsatisfying, but at least his dick was getting soft and he’d be able to give sleep another try. He pulled his shirt over his head and used it to wipe his hands, about to drop it on the floor when he heard the bedroom door open.

 

The hinges were loud in the one am silence, and the sound made Yuri’s breath catch in his throat. He shoved the shirt under his pillow and pulled the duvet up to his chin, watching as Otabek tiptoed out of the bedroom in nothing but his boxer briefs. He headed into the bathroom and Yuri counted the seconds that passed between the toilet flushing and the water running as Otabek washed his hands.

 

The light from the bathroom hit Yuri’s face when Beka finally came out and their eyes met across the living room.

 

Otabek tilted his head, his hand freezing on the light switch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“It’s ok. I wasn’t asleep yet.” Yuri‘s heart was still racing from his orgasm and he wondered if he sounded as winded as he felt. “Remember to leave the bathroom door open so the cats can use the litterbox.”

 

Otabek left the door ajar, his eyes lingering on Yuri for a moment before he made his way back to their bedroom. He peeked out from the door and Yuri heard him whisper, “I hope you sleep well, Yura.”

 

“You too, Beka.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri knew he wasn’t the only one who struggled with the situation, and where Yuri preferred to lash out, mostly at Viktor or Mila, Otabek had a tendency to bottle everything up.

 

Yuri had always hated the way Otabek got stuck in his own head when he was upset. It was mostly unintentional, but the silent treatments Beka had given him in the past when they fought for real never failed to rile Yuri up. He always felt so stupid yelling and stomping his feet when Otabek just sat there and watched him fume.

 

They weren't fighting now, but Yuri felt the same jab of irritation whenever Otabek grew so quiet and withdrawn that Yuri didn’t even know how to approach him. He often caught Beka staring at the framed photos in their apartment or scrolling through his instagram and twitter feeds, seeing their shared moments of past happiness but having no memory of them.

 

This morning, he seemed particularly interested in one of the pictures on the fridge door. Yuri watched him from the table as he wolfed down his oatmeal, still half-asleep, neck sore from sleeping on the stupid couch. He was getting more and more tempted to accept Viktor and Katsuki’s offer to stay in their guest room, but the mere thought of their never-ending PDA made him gag.

 

“It was taken at White Nights three years ago, but I guess you don’t remember?” Yuri asked as Beka continued to study the photo, already expecting the blank look in his eyes as he shook his head.

 

“I don’t… But we both look happy in it.”

 

Yuri looked up from his oatmeal, a tentative smile tugging on his lips. He got up and joined Otabek by the fridge, brushing his thumb over the picture of him and Beka with the Neva in the background, the sky alight with fireworks.

 

“It was the coolest night ever. We both got super drunk on cheap vodka that you stole from a bunch of Spanish tourists and you also dared me into getting this.” Yuri raised the hem of his oversized t-shirt to reveal a small inked _davai_ , written in Cyrillic right above his left pectoral.

 

Otabek blinked at the tattoo, the black ink in stark contrast with the pale canvas of Yuri’s skin. He glanced down, his eyebrows climbing up as he let out a quiet laugh. “I, uh, have one too…”

 

“I know you do,” Yuri smirked, eyes playful as he lowered them to the juncture where Otabek’s hip met with his left thigh. “I picked the spot myself.”

 

That evening Yuri seated himself next to Otabek on the couch after his stretches, and pulled up the YouTube app on his phone, going through his special playlist until he found Otabek’s free skate at Pyeongchang.

 

All of his programs had always had a high technical difficulty, and the ones he’d skated at their first Olympics had been beyond ambitious. He hadn’t nailed all his quads in his short program, but his free skate had been perfect, earning him the bronze that now hung in the place of honor on their medal wall.

 

“This is my favorite performance from you,” Yuri said softly, handing the phone to Beka.

 

They both watched Otabek gather momentum on the ice as **[_Bridge Over Troubled Water_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4G-YQA_bsOU)** filled the arena, the music swelling as Otabek’s performance grew more and more intense.

 

It was the most personal program Beka had ever skated, because he’d been skating it for Yuri.

 

He could still remember the dark hole he’d fallen into after his debut into seniors when a series of late growth spurts over the summer had left him feeling like a stranger in his own body. His balance had all but disappeared and he’d had so many injuries that it was a small wonder that Yuri had even made it to the Olympics.

 

He’d never been so frustrated and afraid, lashing out at everyone around him, too depressed to leave his room when he wasn’t forced to drag his traitorous body to the rink. Even Yakov’s well-meaning yelling and Lilia’s thinly veiled insults and awkward attempts at mothering him weren’t enough to get Yuri out of his slump.

 

He’d kept his rinkmates at arm’s length for most of the season, but one person had refused to let Yuri push him away.

 

Otabek had listened to his rants on Skype, replying to his self-pitying texts with dumb cat memes and the kind of dark humor they both liked, reminding him to keep fighting on days when Yuri was convinced he should just retire.

 

His whole second season in the senior division had been a total flop, but Yuri had crawled through the darkness with Otabek’s help, and he’d gone on to win gold at the Worlds the following season.

 

He felt Otabek shift against him, the look in his eyes intense as he stared at the small screen in his hand. Even if he had no memory of it, something in him was visibly affected, and Yuri wondered if something in Otabek’s subconscious knew how meaningful these four and a half minutes had been to them both.

 

They’d had their first kiss that very night in Yuri’s dorm, and they were Instagram official by the time the Olympics concluded in the closing ceremonies.

 

The video ended with Otabek in the kiss and cry, the nervous tension on his face shifting into a proud smile when his points showed up on the score board, the audience in the stadium applauding.

 

Otabek cleared his throat, looking a little bewildered as he handed the phone back to Yuri. “I seriously can’t believe I was ever that good…”

 

“You still are!” Yuri corrected, refusing to even consider the possibility that Otabek wouldn’t resume his skating and be fucking amazing at it.

 

He eyed his gym bag where it lay under the coat rack, his mint green skate guards peeking out through the open zipper. It was past nine and the rink was almost certainly empty by now; even the junior hockey team’s Sunday ice time ended at eight.

 

Yuri grabbed a hold of Otabek’s hand and pulled him up from the couch. “Come on, I want you to come to the rink with me.”

 

“What? Right now?” Otabek hadn’t set foot on the ice since his accident and his face became a little guarded as he followed Yuri into the hallway. “I don’t know… I probably won’t even stay upright.”

 

“That’s bullshit,” Yuri scoffed. “You’re Kazakhstan’s fucking hero, Beka.”

 

Otabek went a little pink in the cheeks, because he was modest like that. “Were you always this stubborn?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes when Yuri dug out his hat and yanked it on Otabek’s head.

 

Yuri dashed into their bedroom to fetch Beka’s skates, grinning at him over his shoulder. “Don’t you mean ‘determined’?”

 

The Yubileyny closed for public at six, but there were a couple of Yakov’s younger students skating around the rink, trying to improve on their own time.

 

“Looks like the old man is wasting his time on talentless hacks now,” Yuri huffed as he sat down to tie his skates, watching one of the guys stumble out of a simple layback.

 

Otabek didn’t answer, the line of his jaw tight as he worked on his own laces. Yuri recognized the nervous pinch between his eyebrows as Otabek turned his eyes on the ice.

 

“You okay?”

 

He’d take Otabek home if he wasn’t ready, but he knew Beka had never been someone who ran from a challenge.

 

Otabek closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

 

Yakov’s students had finally noticed their presence, gawking at them as Otabek set one skate on the ice, hands still holding onto the boards.

 

“Hey! Assholes! What the hell are you looking at?” Yuri barked, his voice bouncing off the high ceiling.

 

Viktor was always nagging him about using his _indoor voice_ , and Yuri had been working on his temper for a few years now, but he didn’t want Otabek to feel any more self-conscious than he already did.

 

“Amateur hour is over! _Do svidanya_!”

 

The kids scrambled to the locker rooms, and Yuri turned his attention back on Otabek, his mouth splitting into a broad smile when Beka released his hold on the boards and slid onto the ice.

 

“Hell yeah,” Yuri said with a nod. He took a hold of Otabek’s arm and pulled him to the center of the rink, leading him around in simple figure eights.

 

Otabek’s balance was intact, but his upper body was as stiff as a board and Yuri pretended he didn’t notice the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You’ll definitely be competing against me for gold again next season,” he grinned. “I’ll still win, but at least I’ll have some real competition.”

 

Otabek exhaled a shaky laugh. “Those are some bold words, Plisetsky.”

 

Yuri shot him a sly little grin and began to gather speed for a salchow. He landed it with his usual grace, the click of his skates connecting with the ice echoing in the vast space around them. He turned to give Beka a smug smile over his shoulder, but it died on his lips when he saw the petrified look on Otabek’s face.

 

“Beka? Are you ok?”

 

Otabek stared at him, but it didn’t look like he was actually seeing Yuri, the gaze in his eyes glazed over. Yuri’s heart knocked against his ribs when he remembered that Otabek had injured himself on a botched triple salchow.

 

“Oh shit, Beka, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think...” He hurried over and reached up to cup Otabek’s cheek. The skin under his palm was clammy with cold sweat, but the touch seemed to pull Beka out of his haze. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah… I don’t know what just happened.” Otabek blinked, his gaze darting around the rink. “I watched you and had this strange sense of déjà vu or something. I think I even heard voices and one of them was my coach, but there’s no one here besides us.”

 

Yuri kicked at the ice with his toe pick, suddenly angry with himself. What the hell had he been thinking bringing Beka to the rink so soon! Had he just given Otabek some weird PTSD or something?

 

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. Fuck!” Yuri began to skate towards the boards, but Otabek grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault.” Otabek rubbed his thumb against Yuri’s palm, the corner of his mouth curving up in a tentative smile. “I… I think this is a good thing.”

 

Yuri’s breath escaped his mouth in a relieved little puff. He looked down to where their fingers were now interlocked. “Really? You do?”

 

“I do.” Otabek’s eyes were kind as he gave Yuri’s hand a gentle tug. “Come on, Plisetsky, show me the rest of your moves.”

 

Yuri’s mood shot through the roof at Otabek’s request and he went to rummage through his bag until he found his portable speaker. He set it on the railing and began to go through his playlist, pulling up a song he’d been skating to a lot in recent weeks.

 

“This isn’t one of Viktor’s routines,” Otabek observed as the first notes of **[Yuri’s song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ec92Wa8zJs8)** filled the empty rink and Yuri settled into his starting position.

 

“No, this is something special.”

 

Yuri began with a spiral and transitioned into a triple lutz, following it with a triple toe loop. He changed his routine a little every time he skated it to match his mood, and it may not have been as refined as the programs Viktor had choreographed for him over the years, but it was an outlet Yuri needed in his life right now.

 

 

 _If you're ready, heart is open_  
_I'll be waiting_  
_Come find me_

 

 

He caught flashes of Otabek’s stunned expression as he watched the desperate, almost aggressive way Yuri moved his body on the ice, his jumps a little sloppy, but powerful.

 

 

 _If you're searching for forever_  
_I'll be waiting_  
_Come find me_

 

 

The final notes of the song faded out and Yuri dropped to his knees, his chest heaving as he sucked in the cold air. He hadn’t warmed up properly and he knew he’d be paying for it later, but the way Otabek had watched him, captivated by Yuri’s every spin and jump, almost like he was seeing it all for the first time? Definitely worth a few sore muscles.

 

Otabek’s skates clicked against the ice as he glided across the rink to where Yuri was still trying to gather himself. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat when he saw one of Beka’s thumbs was raised in a familiar gesture.

 

_Davai!_

 

“Yura…” The corners of Otabek’s eyes crinkled with his smile and he sounded almost as breathless as Yuri. “Was that something you came up with on your own?”

 

Yuri’s cheeks burned in spite of the cool temperature and he felt a sudden urge to hide behind his hair the way he used to when he was fifteen and awkward. He got back to his feet and wiped at his leggings, watching Beka through his lashes. “It’s just something I’ve been doing whenever the rink’s been empty. Viktor’s always telling me to channel my feelings into my skating, but the routines he designed for me this season are tame as hell so I had to improvise.”

 

“Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t do tame?” Otabek smirked, arching his brow at Yuri.

 

“Hell no.”

 

“It was really good, Yura.” Otabek reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Yuri’s ear where it clung to his sweaty cheek. “I can see why it’s special to you.”

 

It was almost eleven when they got back home and Yuri’s mood was still elevated. He grinned at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he piled his hair up with a scrunchie, getting himself ready for bed.

 

Otabek was already under the covers, reading glasses on his nose, when Yuri poked his head in through the bedroom door to wish him a goodnight. He set his ipad on his thighs, the expression on his face a little guilty.

 

“Yuri, wait.”

 

Yuri paused and leaned against the doorframe. “What’s up, Beka?”

 

“I, uh, heard you complain about your back hurting when you were on the phone with Viktor the other day. I know you’re not comfortable sleeping on that couch.”

 

Yuri lowered his eyes, nodding. “Yeah…”

 

Their couch was comfortable enough for Netflix and snuggling, but it wasn’t made for restful sleep. Yuri felt like he had a permanent kink in his neck and his lower back was killing him when he got up in the mornings.

 

“I should be the one to sleep on the couch,” Otabek offered, but Yuri shook his head, refusing to even consider it.

 

“No way, Beka! You’re still healing and believe me, that couch isn’t going to help.”

 

“But I don’t want you to be in pain either,” Otabek insisted, audibly frustrated.

 

Yuri stepped into the room, his eyes playful as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Well, we could share the bed like we used to...”

 

Otabek glanced at Yuri’s side of the bed, untouched for weeks now.

 

“Okay.”

 

Yuri blinked, not sure if he’d heard right. “What?”

 

“We should share the bed, it’s too big for one person anyway,” Otabek said, his smile a little sheepish.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously, Yura, get in,” Otabek grinned, patting the empty spot next to him.

 

“Okay,” Yuri gasped, hurrying to fetch his pillow and duvet from the living room.

 

He settled next to Otabek, and both Potya and Dasha joined them the moment they realized Yuri had returned to the bedroom.

 

Otabek reached over to scratch under Potya’s chin. “I’ve heard them at the door some nights, but I didn’t know if they were allowed in the bed.”

 

“Of course they are,” Yuri huffed, dragging Dasha into his arms. “They’re our babies, Beka.”

 

“They are, huh?” Otabek grinned, giving Yuri a sideway glance.

 

“Y-yeah…” Yuri hid his face in Dasha’s fur, his toes curling against the mattress.

 

They’d been sharing beds long before they ever started dating, but Yuri couldn’t remember being this nervous about it since the first time in Barcelona, both of them passing out in Yuri’s bed the moment they’d perfected his exhibition skate.

 

“You want me to turn off the light?” Otabek asked, his accent a little thick, which meant Yuri wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

 

The knowledge made him relax a little and he turned to lie on his side, pulling Dasha into the crook of his arm. “Sure, Beka.”

 

The sheer curtains on their window didn’t do much to block out the light from the street lamps, but it still took a moment for Yuri’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. He felt Beka’s knee press against his thigh and the small connection set off a warm chain of sparks in him that seemed to spread all the way to his fingertips.

 

There was a soft rustle of sheets as Otabek rubbed his cheek against his pillow, his voice content and rough with impending sleep. “Goodnight, Yura.”

 

Yuri inched a little closer and pressed his toes against Otabek’s shin through their thick winter duvets. “Night, Beka.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

December in Saint Petersburg was dark and rainy. It would have been easy to forget that the year was coming to an end if it wasn’t for JJ spamming his Instagram with pictures of himself in a dumb Santa costume with Isabella and their kid dressed as his little elves. Yuri resisted the urge to block him when his feed was invaded by the umpteenth JJ Style Christmas selfie, this one featuring a garishly decorated tree behind JJ and Isabella’s grinning faces.

 

“That’s adorable,” Viktor cooed, spying on Yuri’s phone over his shoulder.

 

“Ugh. You and that Canadian asshole have tragic taste.”

 

Yuri chewed on his nail, his eyes darting between his phone and the traffic outside. They’d managed to land just before rush hour and the taxi seemed to be moving at snail speed, stuck in a sea of cars on Pulkovskoye.

 

He leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder, earning himself a glare through the rearview mirror. “Hey, old man, can’t you go faster? I’d like to be home sometime this century.”

 

The driver grumbled something under his breath and turned up the volume on the radio until Yuri’s voice was drowned under loud balalaika riffs.

 

“Goddammit!” Yuri slumped against his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d get there faster if I walked…”

 

Katsuki touched his shoulder, resisting Yuri’s attempt to shrug it off. “Calm down, Yura. You called Otabek when we landed and he was fine, wasn’t he?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Yuri knew he was being ridiculous, that Otabek could take care of himself while Yuri was away for the GPF, but being on a completely different continent for almost a week hadn’t been easy.

 

He’d been a nervous wreck throughout the competition, and it was a small wonder he’d only fucked up one of his programs, but his points were still far behind the ones that won Chulanont bronze. Yakov would’ve ripped him a new one for being so sloppy, but Viktor hadn’t given him any shit as they sat in the Kiss and Cry and Yuri got his worst points all season. He didn’t want anyone’s pity, but he was glad that Viktor seemed to understand the reason behind his fuck up.

 

He’d had nightmares about his phone ringing in the middle of the night and he’d barely slept during their stay in Fukuoka, lying awake and staring at infomercials and game shows until it was time to meet Viktor and Katsuki for breakfast.

 

The time difference and Yuri’s busy schedule had kept them from skyping, but Otabek had sent him a new mix after last night’s defeat, his first one since the accident. It wasn’t his best work, but Yuri liked the soft bass and the dreamy hints of jazz, and he’d been listening to it almost non-stop during the long flight home.

 

Otabek had been improving a lot in recent weeks, his memory stitching back piece by piece. Yuri still couldn’t talk to him about any specific memories they’d shared over the years without Otabek drawing a blank, but he was thrilled about all the random little things that had begun to resurface after the night at the rink.

 

Otabek had remembered the brand of moisturizer Yuri used when they were out shopping one Sunday morning, and when Yuri’s practice dragged on longer than usual the next day, Otabek had remembered to record Yuri’s favorite show for him. He also knew that Yuri hated going down to the laundry room alone, offering to come with him when Yuri had headed down with a basket full of dirty sports gear.

 

The more mundane it was, the more important it felt to Yuri.

 

He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until he felt Viktor shake him awake. “Yura, we’re home.”

 

Yuri blinked and turned his eyes on the familiar sight of his home street on the Fontanka River Embankment. The driver was already pulling out his luggage from the trunk and Yuri scrambled out of the door, glancing at the fare meter and shooting Viktor and Katsuki an apologetic look over his shoulder.

 

“I’ll pay you back next time, ok?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Yura,” Viktor said, waving at him through the window. “Say hi to Otabek for us!”

 

Yuri pulled out his keys and dragged his luggage up the stone steps, the wheels so full of gravel that they’d stopped turning ages ago. He bounced on his feet as he waited for the antique elevator to descend into the lobby and pushed himself inside the moment he got the old scissor gate open.

 

His stomach gave a loud rumble when the elevator finally stopped at their floor, a rich aroma of savory meat wafting through the hallway, reminding him that he’d skipped his meal on the plane.

 

He shoved his key into their lock and was greeted by Dasha and Potya the moment he stepped inside. “Beka, I’m home!” Yuri yelled as he knelt down to pet them. “Beka?”

 

“Hey, Yura.” Otabek peeked out from the kitchen and waved at him with their half-burnt oven mitt. “You have the perfect timing,” he said before disappearing back into the kitchen.

 

“Perfect timing for what?” Yuri asked, kicking off his shoes. He sniffed at the air and blinked when he realized the delicious smell from the hallway was even stronger now. Had Beka been cooking?

 

Yuri hurried to the kitchen and was rendered speechless when he saw the table was set with the fancy tableware Evina had given to them as a housewarming gift, and on the stove was a steaming pot of something delicious.

 

“Surprise...” Otabek bit his lip, trying to read Yuri’s reaction.

 

“Holy shit, Beka. You cooked for me?” Yuri lifted the lid on the pot and peeked inside, his surprise only growing. “ _Beef stroganov_!”

 

“It’s your favorite, right? With sour cream and mushrooms but no onions?”

 

Yuri nodded, stunned. “You remembered?”

 

Otabek was almost glowing as he dipped a spoon into the pot and brought it to Yuri’s mouth for a taste. “It came to me when I was at the store yesterday. I wanted to cook to welcome you home and somehow I just knew exactly what to put into the basket.”

 

Yuri beamed, the sauce melting on his tongue. It was Grandpa who’d taught Otabek his old recipe and Yuri was pretty sure it had never tasted better.

 

He arched his brows when he finally noticed the lit candles and the vase of classic red roses on the table. “Uh, Beka? Is this a date?”

 

Otabek scratched at his overgrown undercut, the corner of his mouth dimpling. “It could be? If you’d like?”

 

Hell yeah he would. Yuri didn’t hesitate as he walked across the room and took Beka’s hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze. “I do.”

 

“Okay, good,” Otabek smiled, the slight tension in his shoulders vanishing.

 

Yuri took in his cable knit sweater and the better pair of jeans Beka wore whenever they went out with Viktor and Katsuki, so different from his usual saggy pants and giant hoodies from obscure brands.

 

Otabek had dressed to impress.

 

Yuri was suddenly self-conscious as he glanced down at his track jacket and the old pair of sweatpants he always wore on long flights. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, the roots still stiff from all the product he’d sprayed into it for his performance.

 

“I look like shit… Uh, give me a moment, ok?”

 

Yuri dashed into the bedroom and closed the door, kicking off his sweats as he dove into their shared walk-in closet. They’d both had one half of the shelf space when they first moved in, but Yuri’s things had slowly migrated to Beka’s side over time. He flipped through the rack, the plastic hangers rattling as he tried to find something to wear.

 

Otabek was very careful about the way he dressed himself, but unlike Yuri, he hated shopping and most of his clothes were freebies from his sponsors or stuff he’d ordered online from stores Yuri had never even heard of. They didn’t really dress to impress each other anymore like they did in the early stages of their relationship, but Yuri knew from the butterflies in his stomach that tonight was special.

 

There was a quiet knock on the bedroom door. “Yura, the food is getting cold.”

 

“I’ll be right there!”

 

He changed into a black Chanel shirt and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans he’d bought on his last shopping spree with Viktor, convinced that they made his ass look even better than it already did.

 

Yuri spun around and observed himself in the full-length mirror Otabek had hung on the closet door. He still looked like he’d spent the last fifteen hours in an airplane, but at least he’d made an effort.

 

Otabek was waiting for him at the table and he got up to pull out Yuri’s chair for him. Part of Yuri wanted to roll his eyes at Beka for being such a romantic sap, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t almost preening at the attention after weeks of distance.

 

Neither of them had ever been into idle small talk, so it took them a while to get the conversation going. Yuri focused on chewing his food, making sure to tell Otabek how fucking good it was. Like, three times. In a row.

 

“I’m glad you like it,” Otabek smiled, taking a sip from his wine glass.

 

“Viktor would probably strangle me with my own skates if he knew I was cheating on my meal plan, but eh, fuck the old man. I know he stuffs his face with Katsuki’s cooking every night.”

 

Yuri flashed Beka a mischievous smile as he piled more meat onto his plate and poured himself another glass of wine.

 

“I saw both of your programs, you know?” Otabek said. “I found a stream from the bookmarks on my laptop. I must have saved it in the browser sometime before the accident.”

 

Yuri slumped back in his chair and guzzled down more wine. “Ugh, that was a waste of time… I sucked harder than Katsudon when he was coming back from a groin injury.”

 

Otabek shook his head and it was obvious he had no memory of Yuuri’s injury two seasons ago.

 

“Trust me, it wasn’t pretty and I was even worse.”

 

“You looked distracted,” Otabek said, and Yuri didn’t miss the trace of guilt in his voice.

 

“Yeah, well… I guess I was. A little.” He shrugged, poking at the remaining pieces of food on his plate.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Yuri dropped his fork and shot forward in his chair, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize, Beka. It’s not your fault.”

 

He couldn’t stand the idea of Otabek blaming himself for Yuri’s own failures.

 

They fell quiet, the mood between them plummeting fast, and it was Beka who finally salvaged it with a complete change of topic.

 

“So, what else do we usually do on date nights?” he asked, the look in his eyes playful as he reached over to brush his fingers against Yuri’s knuckles.

 

Yuri’s stomach did a funny flip at the small contact. “Well, sometimes we go clubbing with Mila, or we see a movie at the Avrora. Or I let you drag me to the Hermitage or Pushinskaja 10 if you’ve had to clean my hair from the drain.”

 

Yuri pulled out his phone and showed Beka a picture of both of them posing in front of a giant lily pad at the botanical garden. “This is from our last date. I dared you to sit on one, but the guard saw us before you could do it.”

 

Otabek laughed, the sound a little wistful, but his eyes were warm and more open than they had been in weeks. “Is there something specific you’d like to do tonight?” he asked.

 

Yuri was tired from the competition and he had zero desire to step outside. Even the movie theater down on Nevski seemed too far away. Maybe he was getting old, but all he really wanted from their date was a quiet night at home with Otabek.

 

He turned his eyes to the hallway where the bathroom door was ajar, and suddenly, he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

 

Yuri stood up and gave Beka’s hand a tug, hoping he wasn’t pushing it too far when he said, “Come and take a bath with me?”

 

Otabek’s eyes went wide, a funny little sputter slipping from his mouth. “Yura, I don’t know…”

 

“It’s ok, it’s just a bath,” Yuri smiled. He wouldn’t push Beka into it if he truly wasn’t comfortable with the idea, but the fact that Otabek wasn’t pulling away gave Yuri courage to go on and lead them to the bathroom. “I’ll wash your back for you. You like it.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Yeah, you say I have a magic touch.” Yuri sat down on the edge of the bathtub and turned to look at Otabek who lingered in the doorway, kneading at the hem of his sweater. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I won’t force you. But I really do want to take a bath. I’m pretty sure my feet are still swollen from the flight and the showers at the hotel were shit.”

 

Otabek stepped into the bathroom and Yuri took his answer to be a yes when he pulled his sweater over his head.

 

“Okay, Yura, let’s take a bath.”

 

Yuri grinned and began to turn the taps until the water was the right temperature. He poured in some of his favorite bubble mix and lit the big candle on the windowsill, motioning for Beka to turn off the light above the mirror.

 

They were both used to being naked in front of other people, and it didn’t look like the accident had changed that as Yuri watched Otabek strip with the same brisk efficiency he showed in a locker room. It wasn’t until he turned around and laid his eyes on Yuri that he seemed to grow a little flustered.

 

His eyes darted between Yuri’s naked body and his own feet.

 

“Beka… You’ve seen me naked like a million times. You don’t have to look away,” Yuri huffed.

 

“Yeah, but I don’t remember it.” Otabek blew at a stubborn strand of hair that always fell over his eyes if he didn’t have a ton of product on his head.

 

“I know,” Yuri nodded, taking Otabek’s hand to pull him into the tub. “It’s still okay to look, I don’t mind.”

 

He let his own eyes rove over Otabek’s naked body, trying not to look disappointed when most of it was hidden behind a wall of bubbles as Otabek sat down at the opposite end of the bathtub. He’d gained some weight during his recovery, the lack of exercise and deviating from his strict meal plan softening the usual angles of his body. Yuri didn’t mind the few extra pounds, though, liking the added fullness in his face.

 

The bathroom was hazy with warm, apple-scented steam. Yuri exhaled through his nose and rested his head against the edge of the tub. “Shit this feels good.”

 

Otabek gave a stiff nod, his knees pulled up to his chest.

 

“Relax, Beka,” Yuri grinned, sticking out his foot to splash foamy water on Otabek. “Normally you’d be poking my ass with your toes by now.”

 

Otabek let out a snort at Yuri’s words, a dorky sound that Yuri had really missed. He finally unfolded his knees until his thighs were pressed against Yuri’s calves, the mood between them relaxed.

 

Yuri grabbed his loofah and soaked it in the foamy water, rubbing it over his neck and forearms. He had a large bruise above his left elbow from a fall in his free skate, and he saw Otabek’s eyes linger on it, the look in them sympathetic.

 

“Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

 

Otabek traced the bruise with his fingers, the skin dark purple and a little swollen. “We should still ice it before bed.” He lowered his hand on Yuri’s knee where it poked out from the foam, his eyes intense in the candlelight. “It’s weird…”

 

“What is?” Yuri asked, a little breathless, his eyes fixed on Beka’s hand on his knee.

 

“How there’s still so much I can’t remember about you, but I feel like I _know_ you. I feel good when I’m around you. Comfortable, like I’ve known you for years.” He stroked his hand up and down Yuri’s shin, an unconscious but intimate gesture. “Yura… Even if my memories never come back, I wanna make new ones. With you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m, uh… glad.” It was the understatement of the century, but there was a reason why most of his interviews had always been picture-heavy. He grabbed Otabek’s sponge from the small shelf, much better at letting his body do the talking. “Come on, turn over and I’ll wash your back for you.”

 

The water around them sloshed as Otabek turned around and exposed the broad plains of his back to Yuri. He pushed his hair away from his face and glanced over his shoulder. “This ok?”

 

“You can come closer,” Yuri smiled. He parted his thighs a little wider to allow Beka to sit between them, and let the sponge soak in the warm water until it was nice and soft.

 

Otabek’s head lolled against his chest as Yuri began to bathe him, a low grunt escaping into the comfortable silence between them.

 

Yuri smiled behind his back, following the movements of his own hands as they slid across the lovely valleys and sharp angles of Beka’s back.

 

Otabek welcomed his touch, leaned into it over and over again, and it felt like Yuri’s world was finally beginning to right itself. The relief he felt was so overwhelming that he had to blink against the sudden sting in his eyes.

 

Shit. He was turning into a sap like Beka.

 

The moment stretched on, the movements of Yuri’s hands slowly growing more intimate as he slipped his fingers over Otabek’s ribs and shoulders.

 

Otabek exhaled a quiet sigh, his breaths heavier than before, and he threw his head back as one of Yuri’s hands reached under his arm, his long fingers brushing over Otabek’s left nipple.

 

“Yura?” Otabek’s voice came out gruff and low, and Yuri noticed he was starting to pant. “I’m… It’s been so long that I…”

 

Yuri slid his hand a little lower, over the muscles in Beka’s stomach until he felt it.

 

Otabek was hard.

 

He jolted at the tentative brush of Yuri’s fingers against his cock, but Yuri wrapped his arm around his waist and held him still.

 

“Hey, it’s okay, come here.” Yuri pressed his lips against Otabek’s shoulder, pulling gently until he felt Beka’s spine mold against his chest underneath the water. “Let me take care of you.”

 

Otabek’s mouth hung open and his head came to rest on Yuri’s shoulder, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.

 

“Can I?” Yuri asked, feeling the way Otabek’s muscles jumped underneath his palm as he rested it just above his groin.

 

Otabek licked his lips, the smack from it loud in the silence between them. “Please, Yura.” He thrust up, his hips rising beneath the surface.

 

Yuri pressed a soft kiss to Otabek’s jawline and wrapped his fingers around his cock, something in his own stomach pulling tight as he moved his hand up and down the hard length of it.

 

Otabek rocked up into his touch and the sound that rose from his throat was almost feral. “Fuck, _Yura_.”

 

Some of the water spilled over the edge and soaked into the soft rug as Otabek thrust into Yuri’s hand, his knuckles nearly white where he gripped the porcelain of the tub. He pulsed in the loose grip of Yuri’s fingers, so hard against his palm that Yuri knew he wouldn’t last beyond a few more strokes.

 

“It’s okay, Beka, let go,” Yuri urged, jerking his hand under the water until he felt Otabek grow tense in the cradle of his thighs. He pressed against Yuri’s chest, his feet kicking against the slippery walls of the tub. “That’s good,” Yuri murmured as Otabek shot against his palm.

 

He tilted his head to press his mouth against Otabek’s parted lips, and something in his chest rattled loose when he felt Beka kiss him back. He wrapped his arms around Otabek’s chest to hug him closer, grinning against his lips. “How’s that for a new memory?”

 

Otabek blinked up at Yuri and let out a snort. “Pretty embarrassing. Did I take even thirty seconds?”

 

Yuri combed his fingers through Otabek’s dark hair and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “When we first fucked it was less than ten. For both of us.”

 

Yuri had decided years ago that Otabek’s weird, nasally laugh was one of the best sounds in the world, and he grinned from ear to ear as it bounced from the tiles around them.

 

Otabek wrapped his fingers around Yuri’s ankle and gave it a light tug. “You wanna get out and see if I can improve my time in the bedroom?”

 

Yuri arched his brows, always up for a challenge. “Oh you’re on, Altin.”

 

_Fin_


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